


My First Chemistry Set

by froofie



Category: BBC Sherlock, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Shyness, Swing Dancing, museum, neurotic, sherlock fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froofie/pseuds/froofie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally it takes you a long time to warm up to someone new, but being with Benedict you start to realize you’ve been dating the wrong men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First Chemistry Set

**Author's Note:**

> For all us quirky/neurotic women who hate dating. Sometimes a good one comes along and it's just...easy. 
> 
> Just go with it.

You were introduced at your best friend’s dinner party, which you later realize was just a ruse to get you and Benedict together. She had told you, after your first date with him, how hard it was for him to meet people, especially women, because he was shy, but what she didn’t tell you (until after you told her about your second date) was that he was on television. You knew he was an actor but he mostly talked about the theatre when he did mention work. You’re grateful you didn’t know beforehand because it would have been so easy to put him on a pedestal like you usually do (even if they aren’t famous), but you’re kicking yourself for Googling him just as you were starting to relax (dating has always made you nervous). Watching interview after interview of him being extraordinarily intelligent and confident, you started to wonder why this man even asked you out on a third date. You felt clearly out of your league and wondered if he wasn’t holding back with you when you were out. You clock all the times you were together and realize there wasn’t much time for deep conversation. At the dinner party you all played board games and drank too much wine, on the first date you went to the movies and saw some fluffy comedy (and laughed about the movie over coffee after) and on the second date you went to the theatre (you had an early morning the next day so there wasn’t time to do any post show chatting). Clearly there must have been some other force at work between you for him to continue to ask you out and for you to want to see him, but your fears easily got the best of you despite any positive signals. 

You worked yourself up into quite a nervous lather before your third date, afraid you might not be able to carry on conversations about politics or great literature. You certainly didn’t want to feel stupid on top of all of your other self-conscious neuroses when it comes to men. Your romantic life suffered for years and years, keeping you at bay from much experience, until you were caught in a vicious circle of little experience causing you to shy away from dating, giving you less and less experience. No wonder your friends had to introduce you to men on the sly. But you liked Benedict. There was something about him that felt right to you, which was why you continued to see him. Despite how he came across in the interviews, in person he was actually quiet and reserved and you found that adorable. Certainly he also had a wonderful charming personality and was fun to be around. And let’s not kid ourselves, he was gorgeous but in a “he doesn’t know it” sort of way, which made him even more appealing. 

It wasn’t until you came out of your cloud of self-consciousness during dinner on your third date that you really got some insight that made everything better.

“I have a confession to make” you told him after you ordered dinner at the Italian place by your flat.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I looked you up on the internet after our last date.”

He looked slightly disappointed and took a deep breath, “And?”

“I got really intimidated watching your interviews.”

“How so?” he seemed a little more relaxed, but still cautious about what you might say. You got the feeling he had had this conversation with women before and it may not have gone well.

“You’re really intelligent. I mean, you can talk about anything so eloquently. You’re informed, self-assured, worldly and knowledgeable and shit just rattles off your tongue so easily. I have to admit, I felt a little insecure about my piss-poor education, or maybe just my general disinterest in things like history and politics. I got a little worried I might not be your cup of tea in the brains department.” you reeled off without thinking.

He paused before speaking. “Well, I -”

“Excuse me young man, I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you Benedict Cumberbatch?” an elderly lady asked as she passed by your table.

“Yes I am, Hello!”

“Oh, I don’t mean to be a bother, dear, I just wanted to say I enjoy your work. I’ve seen you in several productions at The National. It’s lovely that you’re having success with Sherlock. My grand daughter thinks you’re cute.”

“Oh, thank you and send my thanks to your grand daughter.”

“I will, love, sorry for intruding on your meal with this lovely girl.”

“No worries, thank you.” 

The woman hobbled away, and your table was silent as you waited for the energy of the moment to move on. Your food arrived and you both tucked in. The conversation shifted to other topics that interested you both, happily you found there were many. You worried in the back of your mind that you may have ruined things with your admission, but you decided to leave it alone, chalk it up to nervous chatter, and hoped to get through the date with the minimum amount of awkwardness. Fortunately he was so charming and down to earth and seemed genuinely interested in learning more about you that you relaxed quickly and found yourself even more drawn to him; you felt something click between you. You enjoyed a lovely dinner, even ordering dessert and espresso just to have an excuse to stay together in the bubble forming around you. You eventually looked up and saw chairs stacked on tables, your waiter twiddling his fingers by the bar waiting for you to pay the bill so they could close. 

Benedict walked you around the corner to your flat and you both stood outside quietly waiting for a taxi to come by. He eventually took a deep breath and started talking out of the blue, shyly looking at the ground, hands shoved into his pockets. 

“I understand feeling intimidated by people you think are better than you in some way or another, I’ve been there plenty of times and will continue in the future I’m sure. And I’ve been on dates where the women have known my work and assumed I was the characters I’ve played. They never get a second date. Um, but in the short time we’ve spent together, I can tell you that I’ve felt something with you that I’ve never felt with anyone else.” He looked at you. 

“What’s that?” you asked cautiously optimistic, the tables turned a bit in your favor.

He looked at the ground again, bunched his mouth up and then made eye contact, his voice quiet and soft, “I don’t ever want to stop talking with you.” He smiled wide, unable to help himself. He laughed slightly as he tried to find the right words and you noticed his adorable lisp for the first time. “I find myself looking forward to hearing what you have to say, even in the middle of a conversation, even in the middle of YOU TALKING. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit. You’re funny, you’re intuitive and you notice things about the world, the tiniest most interesting details, that no one else sees. I love how you see the world. You haven’t lost your sense of wonder and curiosity. You’re still playful. It’s what makes me think about you when you’re not around." He paused, "I’ve thought about you alot.”

“You have?”

“I have. It feels refreshing to think about you, to be with you. There aren’t many women like you and I’m sad for that. You seem to live life in a very “now,” very necessary sort of way, like Walt Whitman. Quite wisely in fact. People miss out on so much joy, when it’s right there in their faces all the time. Nothing gets by you. I feel life should be enjoyed. You get that. And I want to be around more people like you.”

For a moment you were in shock from the realization of how others operate. You’re always so busy worrying about yourself and how you do things, you never stop to think that how the rest of humanity functions might sometimes not be in their best interest. It’s weird when you realize you might be doing things RIGHT. 

He continued.

“This is an aside here, to address the interviews you’ve seen me in. It’s very easy for me to play other people, that’s why I’m good at my job. On the other hand, being good at being other people means it’s not as easy being myself sometimes. Part of my job is to talk about my job and, um...well, being other people! And I get around the “not being good at being myself” thing by being Interview Ben. I am prepped before most interviews on what I’ll be asked so I can prepare what to say. If you go back and watch, and I don’t want to send you into the fire of looking out for my insecurities, um....you can see the real me when I’m asked a question on the spot and I have to waffle my way out of it. It happens a lot. I hate it. It’s hard to be vulnerable with another person let alone in the public eye. So I’m playing a part even being me on TV. It’s just another aspect of my job. But this,“ he pointed to himself and then to you, “this is real and I’m so happy I already feel like I can be free to be myself with you. I hope it continues. I’d like it to.”

"Yes, me, too." You smiled at him.

A taxi pulled up to the curb and Benedict opened the door to get in. He continued to stand just outside the car on the street as he talked.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you read every International newspaper, memorized the dictionary or gave a dissertation on microbiology. What I care about, what I will only ever care about and what is so easy for me to see in you, is how you love. I don’t care about your brain, dear. I care about your heart.”

Flabbergasted, you stepped off the curb, hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, too stunned and emotional to speak. He noticed how moved you were.

“I would love to see you again soon. Can I take you out this weekend?” 

You slowly smiled and nodded, feeling your eyes well up a bit as he closed the cab door and drove off into the night. You walked up to your flat and let yourself inside.

From that moment on, your worries completely vanished and you never watched another interview.

oOoOoOo

Tonight you find yourself getting ready for your fourth date. You’re really looking forward to it. He’s asked you to wear your prettiest frock  
and your dance shoes. You put on a lovely red wrap dress and your black character shoes (with the just-right heel) and do your hair up in a 1940’s pompadour. You look like a pin up girl. He greets you at the door wearing well-worn black dance shoes, a black suit and white button-down shirt. His black tie is loose around his open collar. His hair is a luscious wavy crown. You want to run your fingers through it immediately. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look very pretty, if I may say.” he smiles at you. You make a little Betty Boop noise. 

He takes you to a big art museum where they have a live band playing rockabilly in the giant atrium. You eat a quick dinner in the bistro attached to the lobby, enticed by the music to get on with things. It doesn’t take either of you long to hit the dance floor. You’re used to dancing on your own, swing dancing doesn’t come naturally, but you happily find that he’s a very good lead, though he claims he’s rubbish. He’s good enough to make YOU look like you know what you’re doing, so you don’t care what he thinks about his abilities. 

He comes alive even more when he’s dancing. It’s as if the music takes over his body and he just seems so open and available. There is nothing sexier to you than a man who is comfortable with himself on the dance floor; naturally your heart explodes from having found a gem among the rocks. You dance to five or six fast songs in a row, not even tiring out, feeding off of each other’s energy as you spin out and come together, laughing, swaying and rocking over and over. It feels like there's no one in the room but the two of you. You’re in that groove where you’re dancing so well together, so in synch it feels like you’re flying. It’s very sexy to be lead by him, he knows what he’s doing and you are too busy marveling at him to even care about anybody else in the room, in the world even.

During a break you head into the restroom. While you’re washing your hands, a group of young teenage girls who are huddled around the mirror turn to you and ask if you’re with Benedict Cumberbatch. You affirm that you are and they giggle to each other.

“We love him on Sherlock. Who knew he could dance like THAT!”

“You lucky woman!”

“Would you rent him out to teach our boyfriends how to treat a lady on the dance floor?!”

You smile and laugh, having never experienced this intense kind of energy before, unsure of what to say. 

“I’ve been where you are, girls. Just try and enjoy what you have while you have it, that’s all I’m doing.” 

You return to Benedict, who is leaning on a pillar, looking at a statue of some nude Goddess, his shoulders shimmying unconsciously to the blaring music. You feel bold after your bathroom ambush, once again reminded that you really like this man and you may have snagged a good one.

"You can try asking her to dance but I have a feeling she'd be a little stiff," you say to him, nodding towards the statue. "But after a few lessons with you I bet she'd be alright."

He laughs and puts his arm around your shoulder. 

“I’m having such a fun night, thank you for bringing me here!” you yell into his ear. 

“Oh, I’m so glad! You’re such a good dancer!” 

You smile at each other. You really want to kiss him, but you see the girls watching you from a dark corner and think it best not to waste your first kiss with him making other people jealous or giving rise to gossip. 

He abandons his coat and rolls up the sleeves on his shirt. He takes your hand and leads you back on the dance floor as the band starts playing a slow song. You sway together, his right cheek against the left side of your forehead. His hand rests respectfully at your mid-back. 

You begin to feel more aware of your surroundings.The girls are starting to stare harder now. You feel uncomfortable about the unwelcomed attention but aren’t sure what to do. Benedict senses you tensing so you tell him what’s going on.

“Yeah, I noticed them earlier, but forgot about it because I was having too much fun with you. Do you want to get out of here?” 

“Only if you do. I’m having so much fun dancing I don’t want it to end!”

He thinks for a moment before speaking into your ear, “I know a place that has a little more privacy where we can cut a rug. Let’s wait for a fast song and make our getaway when the floor gets crowded!”

You wink and smile at him.

The next song is a quick one and the floor fills up rapidly. Benedict takes your hand, grabs his coat and you both scamper away without the young ladies noticing.

For some reason you both continue to jog down the sidewalk for a block, giggling, as if you were being chased. You stop at a corner to catch your breath, laughing still. It takes you awhile to notice that it is raining. The taxis passing are all full but neither of you seems to make much of an effort to alleviate your increasingly wet, albeit romantic, situation. . 

“Here...” He takes off his coat and offers it to you, but it’s soaking and doesn’t help much, plus it’s a fairly warm night and the rain has actually cooled you off from the dancing.

“So...where is this other place you were talking about?”

“Oh, it’s just...just a couple of blocks away.” He shrugs sheepishly. You wonder what he’s got up his sleeve but you are content to wait and find out. You walk on.

At a stoplight, standing side-by-side, you look up at him, the street lamp highlighting his gingered curls, now dripping water down his sweet face. He looks down at you and smiles. God, when he smiles, it feels like the whole world is in love with you. Your heart explodes. You both look forward, waiting for the green light. You feel him take your hand in his. Aside from when he lead you onto the dancefloor, this is the first time he’s held your hand. Indeed, you're embarrassed to ever admit to anyone, it’s the first time that any man has held your hand in a romantic gesture. Certainly you’ve been on dates, and had a couple of sexual partners, but nothing was ever very loving or affectionate. You never knew tenderness was an option, really. You feel a little emotional at the gesture, and try to tame your shaking fingers, you don’t want to look like a fool admitting the milestone.

You walk a block or two holding hands, not saying much, at ease with the silence. At another traffic light, with no cars coming or going in either direction, he declares, almost to the space in front of him, “I want to kiss you.”

You turn your head and look up at him, heart pounding. He looks down at you. 

“Can I?” 

You smile and nod your head, overwhelmed by his politeness, his shyness, his sensitivity to your feelings and desires. The moment seems to happen in slow motion. He turns his body as you turn yours to face him. He holds on to your right hand with his left, by your side. He places his right hand on your face and runs his thumb over your cheek, gazing into your eyes. You blink the raindrops away looking up at him. You’re engulfed by his gentleness, at this gorgeous creature coming closer. He moves his head down to yours, you close your eyes, tilt your head and he kisses you sweetly. You take a breath and kiss him back, opening your lips just a little around his. The light changes color and you break away, smiling, barely able to cross the street as it feels like you’re swimming through what just happened, giddy and wanting it to continue. You spy another corner approaching and notice you’re both walking faster towards it. When you reach it, it turns red.

“Oh, darn.” Benedict shrugs, slightly bolder now. He places his hands on the back of your head and snogs you. Your arms wrap around each other. Rain cuts through the street lamp light overhead and cools your now warm skin. The feel of Benedict’s tongue on yours sends waves of energy to your groin and you kiss him over and over to keep the sensation growing.

A car honks and you realize the light is green again. You cross the street. You almost make it to the next corner, but you’re both so desperate to touch each other, he leans you up against a high stone wall by the sidewalk, licking in your ear as you try and bite any of his flesh available near your mouth. Incomprehensible noises of pleasure escape your lips. The rain pours over his nose and flows down your cheek. All you taste is tongue and water. You can’t get enough of each other. You’re both so wet, and your clothes are so matted to your bodies it’s almost as if you are naked, right there on the street, kissing this adorable man. It’s not hard to see he’s aroused. You can’t stop moaning in pleasure and his moans bring you deeper into it. You’re sure it’s alarming the neighbors. 

He finally breaks away from you and smiles, breathless.

“Well..." he clears his throat and tries to adjust his suit, smiling down at you. "I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. Thank you.”

“My, er, our pleasure, thank you!” You continue to walk, too busy thinking about everything you just experienced to say anything else.

You notice your surroundings and realize you’ve left the hustle of the city streets and have been in a quiet residential area for a block or two. He finally stops in front of a multi-storied brick house set back from the road.

“Welcome to Chez Cumberbatch, where YOU get to be the DJ!”

“I hope there’s a laundromat attached to this club!” you laugh, excitement pooling in your stomach as thoughts flood your mind in the realization that he has taken you back to his place.

He takes you up to the top floor to his flat. It’s slightly dark inside. He turns on a lamp so you can see your way around. You’re politely standing on his welcome mat, trying not to drip on the stunning hardwood floors.

“Oh, don’t be silly, come on in!” He proudly gives you a quick tour. You’re highly impressed with his place. He tells you that it used to be just one flat, but he bought out the whole floor, which included two other flats and had the whole thing renovated when he got his first big paycheck. It’s very tidy and perfectly decorated, lots of red wood and glass. You can tell that everything displayed on the walls and shelves is something that has meaning to him. There’s a lot of love here. You feel hugged by his home if that’s even possible. 

“Your home is lovely, very welcoming.”

“Thank you!” He beams. “Now, um...not to sound forward, but we should probably get out of these wet clothes if that’s alright with you. Let me see what I have for you to put on. Wait right there.”

He’s not gone too long. He scurries back with some options for you. You decide on a white button down shirt and a very silly pair of boxers with cartoon bees on them. (“Some fans gave them to me.”)

He shows you to the bathroom. You peel off your wet dress and underclothes, dry off with a towel, put on his top and bottoms and try to do something with your hair, which sadly has flattened out. You can’t believe he kissed you when you looked like this. You admit, though, it was kind of fun regardless of your appearance. 

You hang your dress and underwear over the shower curtain rail and go to find Benedict. He’s standing with his back to you in the semi-darkness by a record player in the living room, thumbing through some vinyl. He’s put on black track pants and a white undershirt. His hair is still wet, but you can tell he’s run a towel through it, the curls are bouncier.

“If I had some socks on, I could totally do my Risky Business impression for you.” 

“I do have some socks you can have if your feet are cold. “ He turns around and stops.

“What?” you ask, patting down your hair, wiping away any mascara that might have run down your face, double checking you buttoned all the buttons.

“I....I...I’m sorry. I just can’t believe how …..You get more and more beautiful every second that passes. I’m stunned.”

“Oh, thank you!”

He puts a record on, positions the needle on the right groove and Ella Fitzgerald’s voice seems to slide out of every corner of the dimly-lit living room. 

Stars shining bright above you....

“Now, where were we?” Benedict turns around to face you and holds out his hand, asking you to dance. You smile, walk over and take his hand. He brings you in slowly, closing the gap between you. There is plenty of space to move in the living room, but you just stand there by the record player, bodies touching a little closer, his hand resting a little lower on your back than it was at the museum. You start to feel warm inside, a little shy at the intimacy, but you are able to let that go. You feel completely comfortable here with him. You move to the sweet song slowly, not saying anything, just feeling how close you are, amazed at how people come together so easily yet sometimes it seems so impossible.

While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me....

The song ends and another starts. You continue to follow his lead even through the break between songs. 

Smoking drinking, never thinking of tomorrow....

He spins you out slowly and brings you back in. You look up at him after awhile. 

“I like this club. They only play the slow songs.”

He wags his eyebrows down at you, playfully.

“You know, Mr. Cumberbatch, I think you brought me here on purpose.”

“Well,” he purses his lips together, looking into the distance, feigning innocence, “I certainly didn’t make it rain, but I will confess that I took the long way to get here so I could keep kissing you at every traffic light.” He bites his lower lip, shy at his confession. It’s more than adorable. 

“Such a shame we had to come inside, then.”

“I know. I know.” He says, playfully disappointed. 

“Well, then, I guess you’re just going to have to pay attention to the green light I’m about to give you and see what happens.”

“Oh? What green light?”

“This one.” You trail your left hand, the one that’s been on his shoulder, up his neck to the back of his head, feeling his damp soft hair. His eyes close slightly at your touch. Your dancing stops. You tilt your head up while gently encouraging his head down to yours. You kiss him, as softly as possible, on his lips. You open your eyes, to find his still closed, living in the tender moment. 

You wait, watching his face. He opens his eyes.

“I...You have a way of making me speechless tonight. That’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Do I? Well....even if you don’t know what to say, you’re very good at obeying traffic signals and should be rewarded,” you say as you use your tongue to pry his willing pouty lips open.

“Yes,’ he barely gets out, instead he moans into your mouth, “you’re very good at this.” 

Once again, you become aware that not every woman does this, says these sexy things, flirts this way. You never stopped to consider you might be good at something you haven’t had too much luck or experience with. It occurs to you that the reason your sex life was lacking was because you didn’t have deep enough feelings for any of the men that made you want to behave the way you are behaving now with Benedict. 

Your thoughts distract you for a moment and Benedict pulls away.

“I.....I want you to know that I did not plan to bring you here tonight. Not - not that I don’t want you here. I’m glad for the change in itinerary. I just hope I haven’t appeared too forward, that wasn’t my intention. Although kissing you tonight was.” 

“Oh no, it’s fine, this is all lovely. I’m glad you stuck by your plan. I’m just not sure how far I want to go tonight,” you admit. “Though I might could take your kisses until eternity.”

He smiles, comes in close, tilts his head to the right, kisses you delicately and says, “You’re welcome to stay.” 

He tilts his head to the left, kisses you again, “You’re welcome to go.” He whispers in your ear, very breathy and rumbly, “Please don’t go.”

A noise escapes your throat. 

He pulls at the bottom of your lip with his, and licks in between your parted mouth, “You lead the way.”

The energy pooling in your pelvis is overwhelming. You go completely weak in the knees, “May- maybe we could take this to the couch.”

Louis Armstrong’s alarmingly constricted voice bursts through the sound system, making you jump. You both start laughing and automatically hug each other. Benedict deftly dances you back over to the record player. He turns the album over and puts the needle down. A single thumping bass starts up with the first song on Side B.

Never know how much I love you. Never know how much I care. When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that’s so hard to bear...

You look at each other, eyebrows cocked. You feel the need to dance to this one. The rhythm of the music dictates your bodies move a little more seductively. You’re facing each other, holding hands, rocking your hips in time, looking into each other’s eyes, trying not to shake too much from the mixture of arousal and nervous vulnerability. You are in serious awe of how beautiful he is in the semi-darkness, moving so well to the music. God you really lucked out with this one.

Fever! In the morning, Fever all through the night

The intimate moment bears down on you and your shoulders move back and forth in response. Benedict leads your bodies apart, arms outstretched, hands still in contact, creating the right kind of tension when you’re far enough apart to cause you to be pulled back in to him easily. When your bodies are close again, he bends his knees slightly, places your hands around his neck, runs his long fingers over your arms and puts his arms around your back. You start to grind to the music, moving and swiveling your hips back and forth. His hard thigh rubs between your legs and yours between his. Ecstasy. Your faces are close but not touching, everything is being said elsewhere.

The energy between you has changed, you’re both breathing deeper. You’re not sure how much longer you can physically stand. Benedict bends his arms from behind you under your armpits, his hands crooked over your shoulders supporting your upper body completely. Your head naturally tilts back, exposing your neck. He leans in and begins to kiss your jaw, your neck, the exposed skin at the top of your shirt and back up your neck as you bring your head forward to his. 

You’re both breathing heavy into each other’s mouths when he brings his lips to yours, grinding you down even deeper. The sensation of his tongue between your lips and his thigh between your legs is exquisite. One of his hands slides down over your bottom and grabs your ass in wanting. Even better. 

Chicks were born to give you fever, be it fahrenheit or centigrade. 

Your body completely gives out. You moan, heavy, in his ear “Take me to the couch or the floor or the kitchen counter, I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?” His kindness solidifies your decision.

“Yes.”

He smiles excitedly, wraps his arms around you and lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist. He carries you to the large couch and lays you on your back. He hovers over your body, eyes taking you in, between your bent legs. You run your hands over his biceps, feeling the bulging muscles. You’re completely wet and worry for the fabric on the couch. You’re pretty sure you left a mark on his track pants. 

Your eyes travel from his eyes to his mouth, back to his eyes again. He leans down, one hand smoothing over the back of your left thigh, licks his lips and kisses you hard. You’re completely hungry for each other, like you were at the stone wall. Your breathing is insistent, you cannot get enough of everything that is happening. You cannot express to him enough with your mouth how you're feeling. You cannot believe the passion he's expressing for you through his. Every deep inhale he takes seems to come from a place of breathing you in entirely. You both whimper over and over.

What a lovely way to burn...

The song ends but your kissing continues. God you really want his shirt off. You start tugging at it. He gets the hint and takes it off, kneeling between your legs. You had no idea his body was so tight. He’s all muscles with just a hint of love handles, which are adorable. Your hands run up and over his chest while he looks at you. You grab his waist to encourage him back on top of you. You run your fingers over the soft skin of his back while he kisses you, teasing your tongue with his. 

“Me now,” you say to him, indicating you want him to take off your shirt. 

Just as he’s about to undo the first button, Louis’ goddamn trumpet comes blaring out causing you to let out a little cry of mock anguish. 

“Right,” Benedict gets up and stomps over to the stereo. “Enough of you Mr. Armstrong. If I can’t trust you and Ella to play nicely, you’ll just have to go.” He picks up another record and puts it on. Nina Simone croons for you. 

Now listen, honey, while I say. How can you fix your mouth to say you’re going away...

“You’ll keep us safe from froggy Louis and his cockblocking trumpet, won’t you, Nina?” he pleads to the turntable. You laugh.

Benedict faces you, still standing at the record player. It’s the farthest he’s been from you all night it seems. He’s incredibly striking in this moment. His hair is a mess of curls, his lips are swollen, the pale skin on his sculpted torso painted with streaks of pink, his erection easily jutting underneath his loose black track pants, his feet bare, standing where you were dancing just moments ago. He looks so unguarded, as if he was at the mercy of you. You really see him in all his emotional fragility. You realize not many people get to see him this exposed. Your affection for him rises. You want to take care of this being. You want to be warm with him.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he says to you, smiling. “Your hair wavy and spread out on the couch. Your lovely eyes looking at me with such emotion....”

“I haven’t ever felt this way.”

“...your hand resting lazily between your breasts. The sweet creamy skin on your thighs. I want to pour them into my tea in the morning. Will you stay?”

You nod and sit up. “Yes.”

You lick your lips and look up at him as you slowly start to unbutton the top button. 

"You make me feel beautiful."

“Oh God.” He helplessly sinks to his knees and goes on all fours. He slowly crawls on hands and knees toward you, back and shoulder muscles rippling under his skin, as you undo another button and then another. He reaches you as you undo the last button. He kneels in front of you, between your open legs, brings his hands up to the open folds of the shirt and gradually spreads the garment open, exposing your breasts. You look at him enjoying what he's seeing. He rests his face in your cleavage and breathes in deep. You feather your fingers through his hair and hold his head to your chest. 

He begins to kiss between your breasts. He reaches under the shirt to hold you at your waist. Your legs spread wider in reply. You kiss the top of his head. He moves over to your left breast and takes it in his warm mouth. He sucks a while. You close your eyes. He licks your nipple. Your head cocks back at the sensation. You move your right hand up and down his neck and through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. You love that he seems content to stay here awhile. 

Another Nina Simone song starts up.

He moves his head to your right breast, nuzzling it with his cheek, treating it as if it were its own person, deserving of his undivided attention. He kisses underneath the breast, then the nipple. His lips look so good sucking on you like this. You think to yourself how you’ll want to remember this image if you’re both ever at some fancy event together, dressed to the nines and he’s being interviewed by the press. No one will know what you’re thinking, but you’ll hold it in your heart, a secret out in public. 

“Benedict. That feels so good.”

He licks your breast while it’s in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip. His eyes are closed. God. 

You moan and press your wetness to his chest, bending him tighter towards you. He starts running his hands up and down your thighs while continuing to tease your tips hard. 

“You look so sexy with wet nipples,” he peers up at you and you look down at yourself, “Come here.”

He holds on to your hips and pulls you to the floor, straddling his thighs, your back pressed up against the couch. Your forearms hold on to the back of his neck, bringing his hot lips to yours. You kiss passionately, moving and tilting your heads, your tongues meet up in the space between you, waiting for your lips to reach each other again.

He starts sucking on your neck, causing you to arch your back and press your breasts against him. He bites a little, licks and goes back to sucking the same area for a long time. Hickey. Your first hickey. You’re delighted with all the turning points tonight. Your friends were correct: When it’s right, it’s right.

You start rocking your hips against him, unable to restrain yourself any longer. The tension grows inside you every time you grind over his erection. He starts to lose his balance and he topples backward onto the area rug, bringing you down with him. You both laugh for a moment before you return to swiveling yourself over him, unable to stop the escalating sensation.

“Mmm....youfeelsogooddoingthat” he pants against your neck.

You feel his fingers slide under the waist of your boxers.

“May I?” he asks into your ear.

“Yes, please” you whimper into his ear.

The boxers slide over your bottom just far enough down so he can feel your bare ass. He grabs and kneads at your backside while you lick his neck, breathing hot breath on his skin, reacting to his touch with moans. You feel his fingers slide over your wetness. You cock your head back, and sweep your hair to one side as you look into his eyes.

“I want to make you come so hard” his voice rumbles.

“Mmm...yes. I want you to watch me come,” you arch your back, mouth open as he slides his fingers easily in you. You continue to rub your clitoris over his hardness as you feel his fingers stroke you from the inside. You find a pleasing rhythm but your clothes are getting in the way. 

You sit up, straddling him. He removes his fingers from behind you. You sit on the edge of the couch for a moment to take off the boxers. He sits up on the floor in front of you and slides your shirt off your shoulders. 

“Stay there” he says and leaves for a moment. He comes back with a thick towel. “Here,” he sets the towel on the couch cushion and you sit on it.

“Lie back, put your legs over me.” You do as instructed. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like having your head between my legs.” It’s so naughty, you think to yourself and that thought starts your juices flowing more. 

You watch his head nod back and forth as you feel his tongue lapping you over and over with so much intention to please you. You let out a cry. He looks up, still moving his mouth over you, wanting to see you reacting to his touch. 

“I like being between your thighs...” He bites your inner thigh gently, then nuzzles your clitoris with his nose. You feel his tongue inch its way into you slowly. You can feel it, hot and teasing and oddly strong inside you. You let out another noise. His tongue flicks around, his lips create a seal and he sucks on you. You let out a heavy breath, your hands both grab at his hair. Your heels start to dig into his upper back. You look down at him and see him smiling with his eyes. 

“I want to press into your face so hard, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do you want to come now or later?”

“Mmmm...take me to the edge now. I want to come with you inside me.”

“I’d like that, too.”

He moves his mouth to your clitoris. He sucks at it delicately and kisses it. You feel his tongue swirling around it over and over before he finds a back and forth rhythm, pulling unintelligible noises from you with every exhale. You keep looking down at him, at this man, doing this to you. You just can’t believe how sexy he is.

“You feel so good, Benedict. I don’t want you to stop. But I’m close.”

“I’m ready when you are. Let’s move to my bed, if that’s ok.”

“Yes.” He helps you up and picks up the (wet) towel.

“Get a dry one for you, shall I?” he winks at you, proud with how turned on he made you, takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. He gets another towel from the linen closet. 

You stand next to the bed, kissing. His hands run through your hair and sweep down your back and over your bottom. He moves behind you, shifts your hair to one side and kisses where your neck and shoulder meet. One hand on your belly holds you close to him, the other moves to your clitoris and starts rubbing. You feel his hardness against your rear, pressing. He begins licking in your ear. 

He starts to whisper, purring in your ear, “This might sound like a cliche, but did you know you actually taste like honey? It’s amazing.”

You turn around to kiss him, wetting both your lips. “I can kind of taste it, you’re right. Maybe I ate something delicious earlier.”

He smiles and invites you to lay on the bed, towel in position (how kind). He takes off his trousers and pants and crawls into bed with you, his erection pointing upwards, very stiff. You suddenly feel like an animal. You reach down to touch him, loving how he feels in your hand, wanting him inside you. You cradle his testicles in your fingers, fondling them. He sucks in a breath caught off guard by the pleasure of your caress. 

He lays on top of you, and you kiss deeply, hands in each others hair, happy to be skin to skin with him completely. 

“Are you cold? Do you want a blanket over us or shall I turn on the heat?”

“I’m perfectly warm, but if you need something, go right ahead....”

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” He sits up between your legs.

“I’m more than comfortable, dear. I’m naked in your bed. I’m practically vaporized.” He kisses between your breasts.

“You’re delightfully sexy, you know that?”

“So are you.”

“I did not expect this to happen, but I’m so happy it is.” He kisses the middle of your belly.

“Me, too. I’m not normally this forward this fast, but I like being with you. I feel safe." 

“I’m so happy to hear that. Now, where were we?” He kisses the skin above the start of your mound.

“I think you’re almost there.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Honey Pot.” 

You giggle and suck in a breath as he starts to lick you again, mouth wide open. He focuses on your clitoris, kissing and licking in a consistent manner over and over. 

“Rub just inside my lips while you do that.” He moves two fingers to brush your lips open and move in a circle. You start to rock back against him for awhile. 

“That’s it. Right there. Oh God. I - I want you insi- Do you have a -?”

You can’t get the words out completely before he’s stopped what he’s doing and is moving his body up, cock in hand, stroking. Out of nowhere he’s pulled a rubber packet out and is putting it on. He must have set it under the towel when you weren’t looking. Good boy.

He pets your wetness and slides a little of it over himself.

“This okay, dear?”

“Oh God yes.”

He positions himself at your opening and slowly enters you, filling you up perfectly, stretching you in the best way possible. He groans and his voice vibrates through your body. Your mouth opens and your eyes flutter in pleasure. You notice the music has stopped. 

“You alright then?”

“Yes. Oh, Ben, you feel so go-good.” Your mind ceases to function, you close your eyes.

He holds his body above yours, moving his open mouth over yours, and begins thrusting. Wave upon wave of pleasure cascade over you with every move he makes. Everywhere you touch you feel hard muscle under his smooth skin. You begin moving your hips back and forth to meet his. He runs a hand over your breasts sending even more electricity through your body. You open your eyes and see his face, his mouth open, concentration behind his eyes, his cute cheeks rounding out his sharp masculine features. Feeling him moving himself inside you suddenly constricts all the nerves inside you with delight. You start panting against his neck and shoulder, encouraging more. Your hand reaches down to feel his cock spreading your lips wide. He moans.You rub your clitoris faster and faster, feeling your tension peaking. He sees you do this and his thrusting goes deeper and quicker. You cry out.

“Oh....! Ohthatfeelssogoodyes...!” You’re panting, pressing your hips hard against him one last time, squinting your eyes closed, opening up to the waves crashing inside you. He stills his movements, aware of your body’s momentary sensitivity. He kisses your forehead.

“I....I...Oh Ben, that was...thank you,” you exhale hard and bite your lip, eyes still closed. A few seconds pass. 

“I liked watching you orgasm.”

He runs his thumb over your lips. You kiss it. calming down. He pulls out of you gently. You lie there a bit feeling relaxed and satisfied. 

You open you eyes to find him above you, his face so sweet but so manly. You start to feel the need to take care of him rise in you again.

“How do you want to come?” you quietly ask.

“Slowly.” he smiles.

“That’s not very specific, but that means we can’t go wrong then”

“Exactly.”

“Do you have any more condoms?”

“Yes.”

“Were they lubricated latex?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, Um...do you have a stocked pantry?”

"Uh, yeah.”

“Mind if I have a look around? Go get another condom.”

“Okay. Here, take this blanket, stay warm.”

You stop by the bathroom to clean up a bit (smart man has a bidet, thank you please), grab a wet washcloth and then head to the kitchen. You easily find what you need by his hot water kettle, thank God for the English. As you walk through the living room, you figure out how to turn the record over and Nina’s sultry voice comes back to serenade you. You return to the bedroom and find him lying on the bed, patting the empty space beside him. He’s so incredibly sexy. His skin is luminescent, his gaze penetrating and deep. His eyes seem so separate from the rest of him somehow. You wonder for a minute if you didn’t steal one of the Greek statues from the museum and put it in the bed. Your lust becomes insurmountable. You let the blanket fall slowly off your body and onto the floor. You set the washcloth on the bedside table. You shake the honey bear jar at your hips, waggling your eyebrows at him.

“Oh God.” he whimpers

“Get used to calling me that.”

You crawl into bed with him.

“This is how we’ll get around the nasty lube taste.”

“Whatever it takes.”

You straddle his waist and lean over to kiss him. His hands trail up and down your lower back and ass. You arch your back for him, kissing and licking all over his neck and jawline. 

You lick in his ear, whispering, “You make me want to do dirty things to you.”

“mmm. yes, pleaseGod.”

You bite his earlobe. 

You move lower down his chest, playfully running your fingers up and down his arms while you bite and tease his nipples. You lay your whole body on him, kissing him deeply, surrounding him all over, feeling his coarse leg hair against your smooth legs. Your hands reach up into his hair and pull as you open his mouth wide with yours and snake your tongue far into his mouth.

“Oh FUCK!” he whispers after the kiss, panting into your mouth. You kiss him again. He wraps his arms around you, tight, rocking you side to side. You feel his stomach expand and contract underneath you with his every heaving breath. 

You sit up, breaking the embrace. You squeeze little drops of the honey on his chest, just enough to taste and lick away easily, not so much that it leaves a sticky mess. He looks so helpless under you. You lick every inch of his torso, down his stomach, and onto the sensitive skin over his pubic area, cleaning him of the sweetness. He is very erect and you chance a kiss on his shaft, watching a bit of precome rise to his tip.

“I like you wet.”

You start to stroke him, he gasps at the feel of your hand around him.

“I like you, period.”

A laugh rumbles in your throat.

“You feel nice in my hand.”

“You look nice doing that.”

“Thank you.”

His body starts to writhe and you take pleasure in watching him come undone. 

You continue stroking him, occasionally your other hand caresses his balls, or runs up and down his lower abdomen. You look up at him and see him watching you. You lick your lips.

“I want to feel you on my lips. Where is the condom?” You sit up and he hands it to you. You slide it over him.

“I liked watching you do that.”

“I hope you like watching me do this.” You squeeze a little drop of honey onto your fingertip and rub it on your lips. Your crawl up to him, open his mouth with yours, sighing into him. You kiss him. His tongue reaches out to lick your lips. You kiss until you can’t taste honey anymore. 

You return to his penis, squeeze a little more honey on your tongue, swirling it around a little. You take him in your mouth, running your tongue along his tip. You lick up his shaft and then begin sucking on him, lightly at first and then harder. Your hand moves along in concert with your mouth, over and over. Your tongue swirls at the top again and again. You feel him getting harder and you’re pleased you’re making this happen for him. You moan and vibrate your voice on him. He hisses. You feel his hips start to buck and you keep your hand wrapped around the base of his cock while your mouth stays close to the head so he can thrust without hurting your throat. You like watching his hips rock back and forth, totally at the mercy of his growing passion. You enjoy feeling his head going past your lips. You start fondling his testicles more. His hands immediate hold on to your head. You continue to bob and suck, stroke and grasp, harder and harder. You find a rhythm he likes.

“Yes, yes, there. There.” His thrusts are slow and deliberate, his breathing hard and desperate. He groans and opens his mouth wide as he lifts and holds his hips up against you. You suck and hold on to him hard one last time, feeling him throb. You let go and rest your face on his thigh, watching the waves wash over him, enjoying everything you see.

Eventually his eyes open and he looks at you with what appears to be a bit of love, but you don’t want to read into that too soon. There is affection, though, and it makes your heart swell. You sit up and reach for the washcloth. It’s cold, so you head to the bathroom to warm it up again and get a towel. You come back to bed.

“I should probably clean you up a bit, out of courtesy.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Well, you’re the one covered in honey, dear.”

He smiles.

You wrap a corner of the cloth around your finger and trace it along his lips. You kiss him lightly. You wipe his torso down. You take off the condom and clean him off. You dry his body with the towel. He gets up and takes the cloth and the condom to the bathroom and crawls into bed with you, bringing the covers over you and kissing your forehead. You fall asleep wrapped in his arms, your legs tangled together under the sheets. 

Just before you drift off you hear him whisper, “I’m so glad you stayed.”

oOoOoOo

In the morning you wake up beside him, facing him in the middle of the bed. For the first time ever you realize you feel very comfortable being in someone else’s bed. You stretch a bit in celebration, slowly waking up. Your thighs burn but it’s a satisfying sensation. You can smell him on your skin, his sweat, his saliva, dried kisses and caresses, reminders that he was all over you. You smile a little to yourself. You get out of bed to use the restroom. You find an unopened toothbrush package on the counter and brush your teeth. You return to bed and cuddle up under the covers, watching his sleeping face. His lips beckon you to kiss them, but you let him sleep. You reach over and brush the curls by his temple instead. You close your eyes again and breathe in everything you’re feeling. Eventually you hear him start to wake up. You keep your eyes closed a while longer. You hear him get out of bed, go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. He slips back into bed. You know he’s watching you. You smell his minty breath in the air between you. He reaches over and strokes your hair, lightening strikes of tenderness. You smile and open your eyes.

“Good morning” his face lights up, “I see you found the toothbrush I left out for you.”

“Yes, thank you for that.”

“I remembered in the middle of the night that I had one in my shaving bag.”

“It makes it more convenient for me to kiss you that much sooner.”

“Mmm, yes, a devilish plan. Come here and let me claim the reward for my schemes.”

You scoot over, head on his pillow. Your available limbs entwine naturally under the sheets. He licks his lips and kisses you, full and sweet.

“Yes. I have done well in my conquest.”

“You sound like a pirate.”

“You’re setting yourself up for me to grab your booty.”

“I don’t understand why you aren’t.”

He caresses you from your bare shoulder, down your back as you arch it in response. He rests his hand suggestively under your bottom.

“Arrrr.”

You laugh.

“How are you this morning?”

“Lovely, fine, thank you. You?”

“Oh, I dunno. Stunned and honored I suppose.”

“Stunned and honored?”

“Just stunned to have such a beautiful and very naked creature in my arms. Honored that I must have done something right in my life to have you still here when you could have left early or gone home at the first drop of rain.”

“What can I say? Something about you just feels right.”

“I hope it’s my hand on your ass.”

“Well, yes, that’s certainly helping. Here, let me show you.” You grab his butt.

“mmm....Yes, I get it now.” He kisses your cheek.

You take a deep breath. “I’m just really glad I got over all my insecurities that probably would have kept me from even going on a third date with you, let alone spend the night on the fourth. They also would have prevented me from finding myself in the arms of a magnificent man who knows how to treat a woman right. I could get used to this. I WANT to get used to this."

“Me, too.”

You lay there sleepily in his arms a while, eyes closed, feeling...something. You’re alright with calling it affection for now, but there might be more you’re not willing to admit so soon. 

Eventually you both get up. You take a shower together, keeping things mostly chaste. At one point while you wash, he stops to kiss around the love bite he made on you, apologizing for it. You tell him the only thing he needs to apologize for is that there aren’t more. He immediately gives you another one on your neck. 

Your poor dress will need some serious dry cleaning, but your bra is okay to wear. He gives you some sweatpants and a t-shirt to put on. You thumb through his record collection while he fixes breakfast, making sure you notice him cheekily putting honey in your tea and cream in his. You eat in his dining room while listening to Ray LaMontagne’s Gossip in the Grain.

You both have separate plans for the day, so he takes you for a short ride on his motorbike in the warm Spring sunshine before dropping you off at your flat. The combination of the fresh air, holding onto him tight as he speeds through the streets and the memories of the night before have relaxed you beyond comprehension. He takes off his helmet to kiss you goodbye outside the door to your building and as he walks back to his bike, you hear someone on the street yell out, “Hey! It’s SHERLOCK!” You smile to yourself and unlock your door. 

You decide to wear his clothes all day as you run errands. When you get ready for bed and take off the sweatpants, you habitually check the pockets and discover something folded up. You pull it out and open it up to find a postcard of the goddess statue from the museum. He must have bought it when you were in the restroom. On the back, written in scribbly handwriting is a message

This goddess should take lessons from YOU.

Yes, you could DEFINITELY get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> I know she's not on here, but my friend Dani let me steal the kissing in the rain idea. Thanks, girl.
> 
> The songs mentioned/I listened to while writing this are:
> 
> (Rockabilly band is J. D. McPherson)  
> "Dream a Little Dream of Me" Ella Fitzgerald  
> "Sophisticated Lady" Ella Fitzgerald  
> "Fever" Ella Fitzgerald  
> "After You've Gone" Nina Simone (seriously...listen to this song)  
> "I Still Care for You" Ray LaMontagne


End file.
